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Yue Qingyuan really had a lot of nerve.
After dragging Shen Jiu away from the bloodied corpse of his former master, he’d pulled him out of the conference arena and found a cave nearby. Then, he’d told Shen Jiu to wait there for a day or two, and that he’d come back soon and bring him back to Cang Qiong Mountain.
Shen Jiu had been struck absolutely speechless by the sheer audacity.
After all this… after how last time he’d said he would be back for Shen Jiu, he’d completely vanished without a trace, after Shen Jiu had only just found out he was even still alive, and that he’d just simply left him trapped in hell while he himself had gone off to become one of the new generation’s bright-shining stars…
There was a large part of Shen Jiu that just wanted to get up and leave, to travel as far as he possibly could, walking endlessly and aimlessly until he either expired or found something to do with his life. After everything that had happened, Yue Qingyuan didn’t deserve to come back and find Shen Jiu actually waiting for him— but in the end, he stayed put.
Maybe he just wanted to see if Yue Qingyuan would actually show up this time.
But he definitely wouldn’t wait all that long. Shen Jiu wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.
So, he sat around for awhile, stewing in his misery as he tried to make sense of his racing thoughts— and to his great surprise, two days later, Yue Qingyuan actually returned.
“I’m sorry, Xiao-Jiu, I just… I needed to make sure that everything was in order,” he said, breathlessly, as if he’d been running for hours. “They’ve found Wu Yanzi’s body already, and now the Immortal Alliance is searching for his disciple… but it’s been long enough now that I don’t think anyone will make the connection between you and him, especially if I say that I simply happened to cross paths with an old friend of mine while out searching. We should be safe to go to Cang Qiong Mountain now. I’ll recommend you to Qing Jing Peak— it’s ranked second, and Yan-shishu still hasn’t chosen a successor—”
“Stop talking,” Shen Jiu snapped at him.
Hearing Yue Qingyuan prattle on, with such an infuriating mixture of nervousness and hopefulness in his voice, was enough to stoke up the quiet anger he’d been nursing ever since he’d learned that his one-time friend was still alive after all.
“Ah… I’m sorry, Xiao-Jiu, it’s just—”
“Don’t call me that,” Shen Jiu shuddered as he stood up. “I’ve been sitting around long enough, waiting for you to come back. Let’s just go.”
“Very… very well,” Yue Qingyuan nodded. His voice was a little quieter now, and for at least an incense time, neither of them spoke as they awkwardly headed down the road together.
Shen Jiu’s mind was still reeling from all that had happened in the past few days. He could hardly believe a single moment of it— from Yue Qingyuan’s sudden reappearance to Wu Yanzi’s death at Shen Jiu’s own hands to the fact that finally, after all these years of waiting and being beaten down, he was actually going to Cang Qiong Mountain. For the first time in a long, long while, he actually felt… a bit excited. But then, that excitement was tempered once more by the now-familiar ache rising up within his body, reminding him of the reality of the situation.
He stopped in his tracks.
Yue Qingyuan also came to a halt, looking confused. “Xiao”— he began, but stopped before saying the full nickname again— “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know why you’re bothering with this,” Shen Jiu shook his head bitterly. “I’m already too old… and too damaged. I probably won’t even be accepted as a disciple.”
Yue Qingyuan seemed a little distressed. “That’s not true— I know how much talent you had even when you were young—”
“That’s just it,” Shen Jiu interrupted him. “I was young, then. Now, I’m not. Shockingly, a lot can change in four years.”
He enunciated the syllables sharply when mentioning how long it had been since Shen Jiu had sacrificed his future for Yue Qingyuan and ended up with nothing in return. His dark eyes narrowed as he glared, desperately hoping that his words would make Yue Qingyuan experience even a fraction of the sting that Shen Jiu himself felt.
Yue Qingyuan, perhaps predictably, didn’t say anything at all except for a barely audible, whispered apology.
Now that the mood had been fallen to its properly awkward and depressing depths, the two of them continued onward again, in silence once more. At least, it was that way for a while— but Yue Qingyuan simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut for long. He just had to keep on trying to engage with Shen Qingqiu, talking about how glad he was to see him, how much he’d missed him, how many things he’d have to show him once they’d gotten back to Cang Qiong Mountain… putting on a real show about it that made the already-a-bit-unwell Shen Jiu feel absolutely nauseous.
Eventually, he’d had enough.
His blood was boiling and his mind was seething, and without thinking things through, he just suddenly stopped, turned, and left the road, half-sliding down the embankment toward the trees.
“Where are you going?” Yue Qingyuan yelped from behind him.
“Somewhere I don’t have to listen to you prattling on anymore!” Shen Jiu shouted back.
He broke into a run when he reached the bottom of the slope, batting aside low-hanging branches with his hands as he went. He could hear Yue Qingyuan’s footsteps behind him, and could only hope that some of those branches snapped back and hit him in the face.
Unfortunately, Shen Jiu was exhausted, his body aching and his mind abuzz. He hadn’t properly slept in… who knows how long, and his cultivation wasn’t nearly strong enough to make up for it. Meanwhile, Yue Qingyuan was the future sect leader of Cang Qiong Mountain— it was inevitable that he’d catch up to Shen Jiu eventually. No sooner had Shen Jiu broken through the trees onto another path through the forest than he heard Yue Qingyuan come crashing through the brush behind him. He turned to keep running along this new path, but before he could take another step, he felt a hand grab hold of his arm.
As he felt the sickeningly familiar sensation of fingers closing around his wrist, Shen Jiu’s heart lurched into his throat, and if he’d had anything in his stomach he might very well have lost it on the spot. As it was, he merely wrenched his arm away, feeling icy pinpricks lacing uncomfortably across his skin as he clutched the retrieved arm close against his chest. Once he’d broken free, he ran a few paces before turning back, teeth bared, eyes sharp and glaring fiercely at Yue Qingyuan.
His former friend, this time, didn’t actually try to come after him. Instead, he stood where he was, his face pale and alarmed as he stretched out his hand in Shen Jiu’s direction.
“Xiao-Jiu, wait!” he called out. “Don’t move!”
“How. Many. Times. Do I have to tell you not to call me that?” Shen Jiu spat, and in amid his white-hot, blinding anger, he took another few steps backwards, just to spite him.
There was something underfoot, hidden beneath a blanket of last year’s leaves.
He didn’t even have time to react before a large net made of red ropes snapped up from the ground, entangling him and dragging him up as far as he was tall into the trees.
A split second later, there was another snap. As soon as Shen Jiu had been caught, Yue Qingyuan had apparently thrown all his caution to the wind and rushed forward, only to step into the very same trap and end up swinging from a branch right next to Shen Jiu.
What an idiot.
Once the initial shock had passed, instinct kicked in, and Shen Jiu began to struggle violently. This, of course, only succeeded in getting him more and more tightly wrapped and entangled in the red ropes, until he could barely move at all— and yet, he still continued to thrash around, despite Yue Qingyuan’s repeated, futile attempts to calm him down.
They’d been caught in a demon’s snare, woven out of immortal binding cables that could only be cut through by a spiritual sword— and Shen Jiu’s weapon was merely an ordinary steel blade.
Yue Qingyuan, though…
“Cut us out!” Shen Jiu hissed, once he’d calmed down enough to speak. “You have that Xuan Su sword now, don’t you?”
Yue Qingyuan stiffened, as much as he could while swinging from a net in midair. “Ah… I…” he began, stammering and hesitating once more as his face turned ashen grey.
“What are you waiting for?” Shen Jiu asked.
“It’s just… I can’t…” Yue Qingyuan shook his head, cutting off, then trying again. “You see, I can’t exactly—”
“So, the prey has wandered in after all… and they sure do make a lot of noise.” A harsh, rough voice from below suddenly interrupted their debate, and both boys looked down to see a pair of demons standing on that small trail. Both looked mostly human, aside from the faint glow of their eyes and pointed teeth and ears, and their clothes had fur ruffs them despite the fact that it was summer now in the human realm.
“Look at them, though… neither one is dressed in gold. These aren’t Huan Hua Palace disciples,” the other demon pointed out.
The first just shook his head. “That hardly matters. Look there, the tall one in white? That’s Cang Qiong Mountain’s head disciple’s uniform. He’ll definitely have some useful information.”
“Ah! Then let’s hurry and get them down.”
One of the demons cut the line that held the nets in the air, and Yue Qingyuan and Shen Jiu were both dropped to the ground. Luckily, the blanket of leaves was thick and the ground soft from recent rain— but as he landed, unable to catch himself on account of being so badly tangled in the cords of the net, Shen Jiu heard a series of loud cracks as pain exploded up through his left leg and shoulder simultaneously.
“Are you hurt?!” Yue Qingyuan yelped.
To Shen Jiu’s utter despair, the older youth seemed to be completely uninjured.
“Hush,” one of their captors said. “You’ll be fine. Humans might be fragile, but the two of you are cultivators, right? And that one’s even a head disciple.”
Shen Jiu grit his teeth together, glaring despite the pain and refusing to allow even a single tear to roll down his cheek. The last thing he wanted right now was to be seen as some weak person, who could barely even be considered a cultivator… not while Yue Qingyuan was still looking at him with that disgusting expression of concern.
They were dragged back along the path for a while, until they came to a large cave, where the demons had set up camp. Shen Jiu kept his jaw clenched tightly shut as his broken bones were jostled every which way— no small feat, to be sure— while Yue Qingyuan kept watch over their surroundings. Once inside the cave, they were taken out of the nets and bound up tightly to a stalagmite with more immortal binding cables. Both of their swords were confiscated, and one of the demons carried them further back into the cave, while the other went back to the cave’s mouth, presumably to keep watch.
“What are they doing here?” Yue Qingyuan hissed from where he was bound to Shen Jiu’s right. “There aren’t any borderlands nearby as far as I know, and it’s deep in Huan Hua Palace’s territory.”
“Why would I know?” Shen Jiu retorted, his voice tight and pinched from the pain. “We wouldn’t be in this situation right now anyway if you’d just cut us free with your sword. It almost seems like you wanted us to get caught— is that it? Were you that disappointed that I’m still alive that you thought you might get rid of me here?”
“Of course not!” Yue Qingyuan snapped. “I’m very glad that you’re alive— happier than I’ve been in a long time! It’s just… there’s some things… I couldn’t really…”
“Enough excuses,” Shen Jiu shook his head. “I bet they’ll just kill me here, and once I’m dead and you’re free of me again, you’ll definitely escape…”
“Please don’t say that,” Yue Qingyuan protested, “I’m not going to leave this place without you, I promise.”
“Ha! A lot of good your promises do!” Shen Jiu snapped.
The sound of approaching footsteps made them both shut up once again.
“Well, well… and here I thought the two of you must be shixiong and shidi, or at least allies,” a low voice, oddly refined for a demon, spoke up. “But my subordinates weren’t lying. You two really have been bickering this whole time. Who knew there was so much infighting among human cultivators?”
Yue Qingyuan looked a little ashamed now, then indignant as he glared at the demon who approached— taller than the others, his hair streaked with silver, his eyes a piercing pale blue, and his bearing carrying a clear air of elegance and nobility. The air in the cave seemed to grow colder with his very approach.
“Mobei Clan…” Yue Qingyuan murmured, without a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “So, you’ve come to the human world, and you were trying to capture Huan Hua Palace disciples… for what reason?”
The demon lord looked mildly amused at this, crossing his arms and tapping clawed fingers lightly against his chin. “One of us is bound, and one walks free. Likewise, one of us will ask questions, and one will answer,” he said. “You, little one, are not the one who will be asking questions.”
“You are mistaken,” Yue Qingyuan replied, lifting his chin. “Since it is clear you aren’t here for any peaceful reasons, it is safe to assume any information you learn will be used to cause trouble— so, I will not be answering you either.”
The demon lord didn’t seem bothered. He merely made a gesture with his hand, and one of his underlings loosened the ropes that bound Yue Qingyuan to the stalagmite. He went calmly, as calmly as he could as he was being half dragged— a sharp contrast to the near feral rage that suddenly burst through Shen Jiu upon seeing this.
“You— put him down!” he snapped, struggling a bit against the ropes that bound him— but only for a moment, before the pain from his broken bones took his breath away and nearly made him black out.
The demons ignored him completely, though Yue Qingyuan tried to crane his neck to see Shen Jiu over his shoulder as he was dragged off toward the back of the cavern, out of sight behind a wall of stone.
Shen Jiu was left there, tied up and shivering from the pain, for nearly half a shichen while Yue Qingyuan was being interrogated.
Occasionally, he’d hear quiet voices, or a faint groan of discomfort, but it seemed the demons were using some kind of muffling technique, because he couldn’t tell anything more than that. The longer it went on, the more anxious Shen Jiu felt, but between the ropes that bound him and his broken leg and shoulder, there was nothing he could do but sit there and…
And wait.
Again.
But it was different this time. Yue Qingyuan was in the hands of a demon lord, and demons weren’t exactly known for their gentleness. Many of them delighted in torture just as much as any man Shen Jiu had met— perhaps even more. Yue Qingyuan was being interrogated by someone like that… who knows what kind of state he’d be in when he returned?
Who knows whether he’d even return at all?
As angry as Shen Jiu was at Yue Qingyuan… there was still too much unresolved. How dare he just go off and die like this?
Perhaps he should have expected this by now, though, but Yue Qingyuan did not die.
Instead, he was dragged back into the main part of the cave where Shen Jiu was still bound. Yue Qingyuan’s face was ashen pale, his eyes sunken and dazed, and beads of sweat were dripping down his forehead as he stumbled, his legs unable to quite keep up with the pace that his captors were dragging him. The difference between the quiet confidence from before and his present state was stark and jarring, and Shen Jiu couldn’t help but wriggle a bit in his bindings, craning his neck to watch as the demons tied his former friend back up against the other side of the stalagmite.
“What did you do to him?” he yelped.
“Don’t… worry about me,” Yue Qingyuan muttered, sounding a little dazed. “I’m… fine…”
Then, he cut off sharply with a soft groan of pain.
“Now, now… let’s not lie to your little friend here,” the demon lord chided him. “You’re still under the influence of the Liar’s Thorn elixir, after all. Wouldn’t you rather save yourself the pain?”
Shen Jiu wanted to ask what that meant, but before he could, the demon lord finally turned his attention to him. Shen Jiu felt like withering under the demon’s piercing gaze.
“What sect do you belong to?” he asked.
Shen Jiu’s stomach felt cold with dread. Yue Qingyuan had been interrogated because he was a prominent figure, and they’d probably kept him alive to ask him more later… but Shen Jiu didn’t have any of those credentials. He was, for all intents and purposes, a nobody— and he definitely didn’t have any kind of insider information that the demons might be looking for. If he wasn’t useful… would he be interrogated anyway? Would he survive the interrogation that had seemingly shaken even Yue Qingyuan to his core? Or would this demon lord even bother with him at all? Maybe, instead, he’d just be killed right away. Maybe he would be eaten by the demons themselves— demons were known to enjoy feasting upon human flesh, after all— or maybe his corpse would just be tossed out from the cave’s mouth to feed the carrion-birds.
He didn’t want to be interrogated, but he also didn’t want to be killed… so he had to find an answer that balanced enough curiosity to maybe keep him alive, while not outright claiming to know things they’d find useful.
“I’m not from any sect,” he answered, then bit his lip. “I’m a demonic cultivator.”
A slight noise of interest came from one of the demon retainers, as his lord leaned down slightly to peer at Shen Jiu. “Is that so?” he asked. “And yet you’re here, fraternizing with Cang Qiong Mountain’s successor… how curious.”
Shen Jiu felt a shiver run down his spine under the scrutiny, and he involuntarily began to shrink away.
He feared that he was going to be torn apart, but suddenly a cry came from the cave’s entrance— apparently, some of the traps had been found by a passing patrol. The demon lord was now forced to go out and check on the situation, and his retainers followed him in a hurry, leaving the two youths alone together, bound within the dimly-lit cave.
Yue Qingyuan’s breathing was still rough, and Shen Jiu could feel him trembling. Because of the angle at which they were tied, they couldn’t easily look directly at one another, but their hands were close enough that they were almost touching. Without quite realizing what he was doing, Shen Jiu’s fingers on his uninjured arm had reached out, curling weakly around Yue Qingyuan’s.
His hand felt cold and clammy, and Shen Jiu shivered.
“What… is the Liar’s Thorn elixir?” he asked.
Yue Qingyuan took a shuddering breath. He took a moment before replying. “It is… a poison. Used for interrogation and questioning. Not deadly, but… anyone under its effects… will feel excruciating pain every time they try to lie… or resist answering a question.”
“Oh?” Shen Jiu raised his eyebrows. That didn’t sound pleasant— and it seemed like Yue Qingyuan must have been resisting quite a lot, judging by the condition he was in right now. “I take it you… didn’t tell them what they wanted to know?”
“I… tried not to,” Yue Qingyuan replied. “And what I did tell them… it wasn’t anything particularly notable. That’s why… they brought me back here. To try… try again later.”
Shen Jiu’s first thought was that they should try to find a way to escape before the demon lord and his retainers came back, but then he paused before saying anything to that effect.
The Liar’s Thorn elixir… it forced Yue Qingyuan to tell the truth, to answer questions… could it also make him explain himself properly?
Maybe it was a little bit insensitive to take advantage of him right now, in this condition. Maybe it was cruel, even— but Shen Jiu didn’t really care about either of those things. He’d seen and enacted his fair share of cruelty already, so why not a little more? He’d only just been reunited with Yue Qingyuan, and he was already sick and tired of his former friend’s flimsy platitudes, his false happiness, his avoidance of the truth of what had happened, of the fact that he had abandoned Shen Jiu for years after promising to return, just to chase his own fame.
If Yue Qingyuan was under the influence of that kind of poison, then maybe Shen Jiu could get him to actually admit the truth aloud— whether it was.
Or that he’d left him there on purpose, wanting him out of the way of his ascension.
Whether it was a faulty memory or malicious negligence, he at least wanted to know one way or another— and maybe fortune had smiled upon him for once, because now, he actually had a chance to make Yue Qingyuan tell him. Shen Jiu released a slight, breathy chuckle and shook his head, gazing listlessly at the ground with eyes dulled by pain.
“It’s ironic, isn’t it? You’re poised to become the leader of the cultivation world in not too long, and now you’re bound up in a cave at the mercy of demons, with a long-forgotten old acquaintance,” he muttered. “You’ve all these advantages now… and just meeting me this once was enough to drag you back down. It’s rather curious, though. Back then, wasn’t I the one whose talent was more impressive? I wonder… were you jealous?”
“Jealous?” Yue Qingyuan sounded confused. “Why would I be jealous of you?”
Curious. He didn’t seem to react with any pain… but then again, it could be a loophole, by phrasing the answer as a question. Shen Jiu frowned.
“Well… isn’t everyone jealous of those more talented than they are?” he asked.
“I suppose some may be, but I was happy with my own talents,” Yue Qingyuan answered, still showing no more signs of discomfort than he had been before. “As for you… well, I know what you’re like. I was just as happy to see the potential you showed as I was for myself.”
It… wasn’t a lie.
Unless Yue Qingyuan had suddenly gotten extremely good at hiding his pain, he still wasn’t lying.
Which made Shen Jiu more confused, more frustrated. “So, what was it, then?” he snapped— all pretense of calm calculation fading away like a leaf on the wind.
“What do you mean?” Yue Qingyuan asked.
“Why did you leave me behind? Why didn’t you come back? Why did you abandon me, if it wasn’t to get me out of your way so I couldn’t surpass you, or… drag you down, or…” Shen Jiu stammered, syllables tumbling over one another as his simmering emotions turned to a rolling boil.
Yue Qingyuan didn’t reply at first, just as expected. Then, finally, he grunted softly and shook his head. “It’s not like that,” he insisted. “That’s not… it was never for that kind of reason. Please…”
“Ha… you’ve got a lot of nerve,” Shen Jiu muttered. “So, why, then? The fact of the matter remains that you left me behind, forgot me for years, and now you’re a future sect leader and I’m some miserable brat with a broken foundation, destined to be trampled on until I’m ground to dust.”
“I never wanted any of this!” Yue Qingyuan cried out, but then, there it was— a tell-tale hiss of pain, and if Shen Jiu turned his neck so far he felt like it was about to snap, he could just see Yue Qingyuan’s bowed head and grimacing expression out of the corner of his eye.
Now, he was getting somewhere. He zeroed in on this vulnerability. “So, which part were you lying about?” he asked, darkly.
Yue Qingyuan swallowed hard. He shook his head. Then, he sighed. “Fine… of course I hoped to become something more than what we were back then, but… what I truly wanted was just to be able to protect you. That’s all.”
He was able to relax a little, some of the tightness of pain disappearing from his brow.
No lie.
“Well, what a good job of that you’ve done,” Shen Jiu spat.
He didn’t say anything for a few more moments, just listening to Yue Qingyuan’s labored breathing. It was only now that he realized that his fingers were still intertwined with Yue Qingyuan’s, damp with sweat. With far more reluctance than perhaps he ought to have felt, he let go.
“If you wanted to protect me so badly, then why did you leave me there?” he asked in a sharp, hissed whisper.
Silence again, pierced only by a few slow, shaky breaths from the other side of the stalagmite.
“I didn’t want to leave you,” Yue Qingyuan muttered, half-dazed. “I… did… come back.”
Shen Jiu’s stomach twisted. “What?”
“I came back,” Yue Qingyuan repeated, “but it was… too late.”
Too late?
“Explain yourself, now,” Shen Jiu demanded.
Once again, Yue Qingyuan tried to resist, squirming uncomfortably in his bindings. At last, though, he could no longer hold back, and he released a long, shaky sigh.
“I came back to that house and found it already burnt to ashes.”
Now, it was Shen Jiu’s turn to be rendered speechless as he wrestled with the implications of what Yue Qingyuan had just said. That he’d actually returned to Qiu Manor… and Shen Jiu had already been gone. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it, to be honest. Years had already gone by, and if he was already head disciple now, then surely he would have been strong enough to come back far earlier than a single year ago, right? So… “Why did you take so long?” he asked.
Yue Qingyuan, up until now, had been managing well enough, telling vague truths in response to Shen Jiu’s own relatively vague questions. The Liar’s Thorn in his body was satisfied as long as something wasn’t a direct “lie” or a total refusal to speak. But when the question was direct and specific, there was far less one could do to evade it, right?
Maybe that was why Shen Jiu could hear Yue Qingyuan’s teeth grinding together, why he tensed his muscles up so tightly.
He really, truly didn’t want to answer that question— so what secret was he hiding?
“Qi-ge,” Shen Jiu tried, hoping to add a bit of pressure even though the nickname tasted like chalk on his tongue.
“I— apologize—”
“I didn’t ask for an apology,” Shen Jiu snapped, cutting him off just as sharply and bitterly as the poison in his veins. “I asked for an answer.”
“It was all my fault!” Yue Qingyuan gasped. He was trembling, and panting hard. “I wanted to… I didn’t listen… I wasn’t careful…”
He was still holding back, fighting, resisting. But why? Why suffer through such agony? Was the truth really that terrible?
Shen Jiu swallowed.
“Do you hate me?” he asked.
With a new question, the pain from the poison seemed to lessen up, allowing Yue Qingyuan a moment to steady his breathing, to calm down.
“I don’t,” he said. “I never have.”
Once again, he was telling the truth, and there was a sigh in his voice, as though this question itself was relieving.
“Did you forget about me?” Shen Jiu went on.
“I did not,” Yue Qingyuan replied. “Not for a single moment.”
Shen Jiu had thought he would be able to use Yue Qingyuan’s present affliction to his advantage, but this just kept getting more and more frustrating than before. How could he make an assertion like that… Shen Jiu had been ready to believe that Yue Qingyuan resented him, or had at the very least forgotten for a few years before suddenly remembering and coming to look for him, but this? He didn’t hate him, he hadn’t forgotten him even for a moment, and yet he still hadn’t come— no, he’d come after all, it had just been too late.
“Why were you late?” he asked, again.
Immediately, Yue Qingyuan’s breath caught in his throat, and Shen Jiu could feel his trembling through the cables wrapped around them.
So… it was just this question, then.
“Is it really something so terrible that you can’t just answer the question? What took you so long?” Shen Jiu asked through gritted teeth. He would get an answer out of Yue Qingyuan one way or another, even though his former friend kept his lips sealed like a bottle, his jaw tightly clenched shut just as he had before. Fighting, resisting, his distress palpably radiating through the air, making Shen Jiu’s own heart beat faster.
The pain from his shoulder and leg were getting worse too, after being tied like this for so long.
Speaking of… how long would they have until that demon lord came back?
He was running out of time. Both to ask Yue Qingyuan questions, and also maybe… maybe even to live, depending on what the demons decided to do with them.
Shen Jiu could hear a faint, dissonant ringing in his ears.
If nothing else, he at least wanted to know the truth before he died.
“I don’t get why you’re fighting it,” he hissed, trying to stay calm as he craned his neck to look over at Yue Qingyuan. His former friend’s head was curled down as close to his chest as it could get, his face wet with tears, and even a few drops of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and from his nose from the strain. Shen Jiu grimaced as the ringing in his ears intensified. He had to admit, he felt a little bad about this— but it wasn’t like he was the one hurting Yue Qingyuan— if that fool would just answer the question asked, then he wouldn’t have anything to worry about at all, so why didn’t he? What was so bad that he would endure all of this just to keep it secret? “Just answer the question, Qi-ge— if you don’t hate me, and you didn’t forget me, then why didn’t you come for me before I was already gone? I don’t see why you won’t just admit it— I’d rather know the truth than listen to some flimsy lies and excuses about why you couldn’t bring yourself to come any sooner— ”
“It’s because I couldn’t!” Yue Qingyuan finally blurted out. “I couldn’t come for you, I tried to, but I couldn’t, because I made a mistake, because you were right, and I’m too impulsive, because I pushed myself too hard and too fast and shattered and by the time I put myself together you were already—”
And then, Yue Qingyuan broke down into sobs.
Not merely a few quiet tears running down his face, but a desperate, broken, tattered weeping that bordered on wailing. His shoulders shook— no, his entire body was trembling like a leaf in a gale, and the tears that streamed from his eyes left rosy-tinted trails down his cheeks.
Even when they were small, starving children, Yue Qingyuan wouldn’t cry— and now, it seemed like he couldn’t stop. The weeping turned to hysteria, and he began to struggle hard against the ropes that bound them, his glassy dark eyes bloodshot and distant, as though his mind was locked away somewhere far from here, desperate to escape but unable to do so.
The ringing in Shen Jiu’s ears rose to a fever pitch now, drowning out all other sounds, all other sensations, shaking the ground and sending several small stones tumbling down from the ceiling. A blazing white light ignited in the cavern’s depths, and then, suddenly, a flash of steel came soaring through the air, and Shen Jiu felt the tight immortal-binding cables that held him in place suddenly be cut loose, letting him fall to the ground. In that same instant, the cave walls began to tremble, and massive stones fell from the roof, one after the other— he forced his eyes open despite the blinding light and searing pain from the harsh ringing sound, just to see the cave collapsing around them.
And above him stood Yue Qingyuan, blood streaming from his face. His sword was in his hand now, its blade shining like the sun, and as the ceiling fell toward them, a beam of white light blazed forth, cutting a great hole through the falling stones and rubble so that they wouldn’t be crushed beneath their weight.
The last thing Shen Jiu saw before losing consciousness from the pain was Yue Qingyuan crumbling to the ground as great clouds of dust rose up all around them, fumbling around with his hands among the rubble until he managed to pull Xuan Su’s scabbard free.
In the glow of the blade’s white light, Shen Jiu couldn’t help but feel like that scabbard’s ivory-white chape and throat looked like bleached bone.
When Shen Jiu woke up, night had fallen. He was half sitting, half lying on the ground in a narrow ravine surrounded by a veritable mountain of fallen stones and tangled, disturbed roots. Yue Qingyuan was curled up next to him, his head pillowed atop Shen Jiu’s shoulder— thankfully, the uninjured one. His arms were wrapped tightly around his sword, clutching it against his chest, and there were stains of blood beneath his nose, his pale lips, and his sunken eyes. A layer of dust covered them, like a fresh powdering of snow.
Shen Jiu was in too much pain right now to move, much less to speak.
Fortunately, there was no sign of their captors. Perhaps the demons had been caught, or perhaps the pillar of white light shooting toward the sky from their hideout had entirely defeated the purpose of a covert mission and they’d just chosen to cut their losses and leave. It wasn’t long after Shen Jiu woke up, though, that a number of gold-clad cultivators came across this newly-carved ravine and descended to bring them back up to the surface. Yue Qingyuan had begun to stir by now, and in a quiet voice explained that he had been on the way back to Cang Qiong Mountain with a friend when they had been waylaid by demons. His voice was exhausted, though no longer so pained as it had been before, and it seemed like every word he spoke had to be forcibly dragged from his throat.
He’d lost consciousness again long before they reached Huan Hua Palace’s Yu Dan domain, and at some point, Shen Jiu had joined him.
The next time they awoke, they’d had their injuries treated and been put up to rest in a quiet room while they recovered. The healer on duty had checked them over and given them medicine, making sure that Shen Jiu’s broken leg was properly splinted and his arm was in a sling. To Shen Jiu’s great surprise, she also splinted one of Yue Qingyuan’s arms, and wrapped a bandage tightly around his chest to hold what he could only assume were broken ribs in place. When had he been injured? Had it been during the collapse? Or had he also been hurt after they were cut down from the tree, and had just been hiding it the whole time?
Yue Qingyuan didn’t offer up any answers to those questions, though, and after the bandages and splints were in place, he quietly asked the healer if they could have a moment to themselves.
Once they were alone again, he looked toward the ground, then up at Shen Jiu, who half expected to be reprimanded for the way he’d attempted to exploit Yue Qingyuan’s vulnerability back in the cave. Truth be told, now that it was all over… he did feel just the slightest bit guilty for that.
Especially when, even after all that, he still didn’t have a real answer.
But Yue Qingyuan didn’t condemn him, or even scold him. Instead, he just took in a slow, tremulous breath, and said, “It’s… Xuan Su.”
“What is?” Shen Jiu asked.
“The reason that I was late.”
Shen Jiu recalled the way the light had shone from that blade, erratic and piercing, the way that Yue Qingyuan had somehow been able to summon it to his side even while tied up in immortal binding cables, the franticness with which he’d dug through still-settling rubble for its sheathe, as all the while seeming to rapidly wane.
“There is… something wrong with your sword?” he asked.
“Not my sword,” Yue Qingyuan shook his head. “Only its wielder. I… was too ambitious, and I pushed myself too hard. The Xuan Su sword is one of the most powerful within Wan Jian Peak, and when I chose it… I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t handle its power. Attempting to bond with the sword drove me into qi deviation, and I was sealed inside Cang Qiong Mountain’s Lingxi Caves for more than a year by my shizun, with my bones and tendons and meridians broken, until I rebuilt myself.”
His voice was a faint, quiet whisper now, and though he was still looking in Shen Jiu’s direction, his expression was vacant, eyes cold and distant as the bottom of a deep lake.
“I… bound my spirit to Xuan Su, and survived… but when I left the caves… you were already gone. I thought you were dead. Until… until we met again, just a few nights ago.”
Sealed away inside a cave with his body and cultivation broken… it was no wonder that Yue Qingyuan had been in such a terrible state while they were held captive in a situation not all that different. It hadn’t just been the Liar’s Thorn that was making him suffer, it was the fact that Shen Jiu’s questions, combined with their predicament, had thrust him right back into all of those agonizing memories.
Shen Jiu could feel his hands shaking, his lip trembling slightly. He was just… so… so angry.
“I told you not to be so impulsive!” he snapped. He’d have liked to get up and go stomp on Yue Qingyuan’s foot, if one of his legs hadn’t been splinted out in front of him, rendering such an action virtually impossible. “I should have known something like this would happen— you idiot.”
Yue Qingyuan flinched, his shoulders hunching slightly.
And for once… Shen Jiu actually couldn’t convince himself that he wasn’t sorry. Seeing Yue Qingyuan flinch away from him like that made him feel strangely nauseous.
He shook his head, taking a deep breath, and releasing it in a soft sigh.
“And here I thought you didn’t care for me at all… I can’t tell whether I’m relieved, or whether I’m even more upset than before— since now you’ve actually gone and destroyed yourself over me.”
“I’m sorry, Xiao-Jiu—”
Shen Jiu quickly reached out with his good arm and pressed a finger to his lips. “Who asked for your sorries? We’re both alive now, right?” he asked.
Yue Qingyuan looked around, as if having to ascertain that fact for himself before answering with a small nod. “It appears so.”
“Then…” Shen Jiu bit his lip. He glanced down toward the ground, then up at Yue Qingyuan again. “Then, you’ll still have plenty of time to make it up for me. Starting with… get yourself back into bed, since you decided you were going to drain out your life force just so we could escape. You still look like you’re going to pass out.”
“Ah, of course— I’ll”— Yue Qingyuan stammered, and slowly got up to move back over to the bed on the other side of the room, where he’d been resting earlier.
He didn’t get very far, though. Shen Jiu’s fingers had moved away from Yue Qingyuan’s lips, but now instead they had caught hold of his sleeve, gripping as tightly as they could in his present weakened state so that Yue Qingyuan was unable to leave his bedside.
“Ah… Xiao-Jiu… you’re…” Yue Qingyuan began, confusion dawning upon his tired, stupidly ashen face.
“Who said you were supposed to go over there?” Shen Jiu scowled. “My arm and leg are broken because of you— even if you need to rest, then you can at least keep me warm, right?”
Yue Qingyuan nodded his head, and sat down on the side of Shen Jiu’s bed, slowly, delicately moving so that he was lying down next to him without jostling his injuries.
“I understand now,” he said, softly. “I’ll keep you warm.”
It was summertime right now, and the room they were staying in was far from cold. There was absolutely no way that Shen Jiu wasn’t warm enough already. Both of them knew that fact perfectly well— and yet, Yue Qingyuan felt no need to point it out. Instead, the tiniest of smiles chased away a bit of the deep-set worry and exhaustion on his face as he tucked his head gently up against Shen Jiu’s shoulder.
Shen Jiu shut his eyes, expecting to feel a little uneasy, a little uncomfortable— but those feelings never came. Instead, it just felt…
Safe.
For the first time in years.
“Qi-ge?” he asked, his voice barely even a whisper.
“What is it?” came the equally quiet voice near his ear.
He took a quiet, shivering breath. “Don’t do something stupid like that again.”
Yue Qingyuan exhaled, and Shen Jiu could feel it brush lightly against his skin, soft and comforting.
“I won’t. Not as long as you’re here to stop me.”
Shen Jiu bit his lip, suddenly feeling very small. “Did you… truly miss me?” he asked.
“Very, very much,” Yue Qingyuan replied. “I’m so glad you’re here now, and that I don’t have to miss you like that anymore.”
Hearing that, Shen Jiu squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly, curling up as much as he could against the strong, yet still so unexpectedly fragile, arm that held him in its comfortable embrace— a familiar feeling, one that he had long thought he would never feel again.
There was no more Liar’s Thorn to tell him whether Yue Qingyuan was telling the truth right now, so… he would simply have to trust his words.
Maybe, just this once, Shen Jiu could try to do that.